


Something Shiny

by LocallyGrownAvocado



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, And Chris is everybody's favorite florist, M/M, Victor and Yuuri own a dress shop together, Yurio is their angsty receptionist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocallyGrownAvocado/pseuds/LocallyGrownAvocado
Summary: Legend had it, if you walked into Stammi Vicino Dress Sellers, made a self-deprecating comment, and waited about five seconds, a beautiful silver-haired Russian would appear and make all your dress dreams come true.Sadly, JJ didn’t get the chance to try.“Welcome to Stammi’s,” the teenage receptionist practically growled at him. “I’d ask you what you need but judging by that suit, you need an intervention.”****Aka the story of Victor, Yuuri, and their dress shop adventures, featuring their resident angsty receptionist. It's mostly just a fluffy design au sprinkled with the occasional theater reference, because hey. What did you expect?





	Something Shiny

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I'm not dead! :)
> 
> Anyways, this is the fic I wrote for the Victuri Bang, hope you all enjoy it. I paired with the wonderful ToastyLibertea, whom you can find [here](http://toastylibertea.tumblr.com/), and they created some amazing art, go check it out! 
> 
> Also a huge thank you to [Baph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baph/pseuds/Baph), for betaing this fic for me and reassuring me that it was at least semi-coherent. Also shoutout to Baph for teaching me how to format things in ao3 because formatting is always a struggle lets be real.
> 
> And of course, a huge shout out to everyone who let me use their urls in my fake Instagram comments, you guys are the best. 
> 
> And a huge thank you to Cas- I never would've come up with the "Boom Roasted" on my own. :)
> 
> That's it for now, y'all, hope you enjoy!

Yuuri liked their coffee shop, he really did. He liked their pastries and their cute French music that played every morning. He liked their curtains, the flowers they kept on the tables, the way the manager smiled when he walked in.

He definitely didn’t like the new barista.

“Your coworker’s just _so_ pretty,” she’d said sweetly. “Mind slipping me his number sometime?”

Yuuri had almost dropped the coffee.

“I mean, you can’t deny it,” she’d insisted. “He’s major eye candy. Practically a silver fox and at what, like twenty-one? And with those Instagram captions? He’s definitely single.”

“Twenty-seven,” Yuuri had corrected. “You know, I have a business call scheduled for any minute now, I should really get going...”

He didn’t wait to hear her response. Instead, he rushed out of the shop and backed out of the parking lot at a speed that definitely would’ve earned him a ticket had there been any officers present. Makkachin had to scramble to get back onto her seat.

“You think I did the right thing, don’t you Makka?” he asked as he sped down the highway. “I mean she was what, like sixteen? And Victor’s _definitely_ not, she’s too young for him. Right?”

Makkachin just stared at him quizzically from the passenger seat.

“Look, if Victor wants a coffee shop wingman, he can as Chris. That’s definitely not in my contract.”

If Makkachin had eyebrows, Yuuri imagined she’d be raising them.

“I know,” he said. “And you’re right. But it’s also way too early in the morning for me to deal with that.”

Makkachin did not look impressed.

“I don’t need this from you this morning, I really don’t.”

Makkachin decided to look out the window.

Yuuri sighed and turned up the radio volume.

It wasn’t a very long commute to the shop- it was about two and a half songs and one obnoxious advertisement for Milo’s Auto Repair. Yuuri parked his car in the back lot and grabbed his bag from the back seat. Makkachin bolted out of the car the minute the door was open, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with Victor’s iconic pink convertible.

Yuuri laughed as he grabbed the tray of coffee. “That car’s worth more than my life, remember?”

Yuuri was fairly certain Makkachin didn’t remember, but his point still stood. He locked his car and made his way into the store, Makkachin already several feet ahead of him.

When they’d bought the building, it had been an indie boutique lit almost entirely by salt lamps. Yurio had spent three days stripping wallpaper, by the time he finished the painting he swore he was high on residual essential oils.

“ _I smell like the lovechild of lavender oil and paint fumes, Katsudon, you’d better be paying me extra for this.”_

Victor had bought him a new album on vinyl and that had sufficed.

Speaking of Victor, he’d left his phone in the back studio.

Again.

He was about to miss a call.

Again.

Yuuri sighed, typed in the too-familiar password, and answered the call.

“Hello, Stammi Vi-”

“Vitya, darling, it’s Vivi,” the caller interrupted. “How are you, love? It’s been too long.”

For a second, Yuuri just stared at the wall, attempting in vain to form words. This was obviously not a business call. This was far, far away from a business call.

“Vitya?”

“No, this is Yuuri. Victor left his phone in the lobby, sorry.”

He could swear he hear the woman thinking through the phone line.

“Ah,” she finally said cheerily. “New intern, I suppose?”

Yuuri chuckled a little. “Not exactly. I’m the other owner.”

Silence.

“This is Victor Nikiforov’s phone, yes?”

“Correct.”

Silence.

And then laughter.

“Oh my _God_ , I never thought he’d be the type to settle. I mean, I’ve been out of the loop, sure, but damn. Did France fall through?”

“No, he interned in France but-”

“Look, Yuuri darling,” the woman interjected. “I’m sure I’ll hear all about it when he calls me back. Just tell him Vivian Forrest called to talk business, ok?”

“Alright, of course, can I take down your number?”

“Oh honey,” she said. “He already has it. Just have him call me.”

“Will do,” Yuuri replied, barely able to squeeze in the last syllables before the line went dead.

For a minute he just stared down at Victor’s phone.

And then he made a mistake.

The name Vivian Forrest pulled out quite a few search results when googled. Her professional website was gorgeous, sure, Phichit would’ve been impressed. But Yuuri was more focussed on the articles underneath it.

Vivian Forrest, it seemed, was a lingerie designer, and a very good one at that. The articles praised her innovation, the way she was reshaping the industry. A few cited her profit margins, the rapid growth of her label, the big name collaborations she’d done.

Vivian Forrest was successful, far more so than Stammi Vicino’s.

And if she wanted to talk to Victor about business…

If she wanted to talk to Victor about business, he’d be a fool to say no.

* * *

Legend had it, if you walked into Stammi Vicino Dress Sellers, made a self-deprecating comment, and waited about five seconds, a beautiful silver-haired Russian would appear and make all your dress dreams come true.

Sadly, JJ didn’t get the chance to try.

“Welcome to Stammi’s,” the teenage receptionist practically growled at him. “I’d ask you what you need but judging by that suit, you need an intervention.”

“I’m here for a fundraising meeting,” JJ replied. “And I’m digging the death princess aesthetic, very gothic chic.”

The receptionist rolled his eyes. “Look, you Canadian Purple Prada rip off. I was killing before killing was cool. Now is your meeting with the pretty manager or the competent one?”

“With whoever set it up, I think.”

JJ had thought it was funny.

The receptionist, cleary, had not.

“Competent it is then,” he said. “Wait here.”

And JJ waited, silently wondering if he could get married in a Katsuki wedding dress without making his fiance jealous.

He decided he probably couldn’t.

After a few minutes, the receptionist walked back in, followed by the literal embodiment of wedding design.

“Mr. Leroy,” Yuuri Katsuki said, offering his hand. “Thanks for coming in today.”

“Thank _you_ ,” JJ replied, shaking the designer’s hand. “I hope we can figure something out.”

Yuuri Katsuki nodded, smiled, and the room got about ten degrees warmer.

“If you’ll follow me, we can talk in my office.”

The minute he walked into the office, JJ decided he might just get married in a wedding dress after all.

The gown in the corner of the office was beautiful- like Katsuki took a white rose and somehow enchanted it into a dress.

“Next year’s collection?” JJ asked, gesturing to the masterpiece.

The designer just laughed. “Probably not. I’m not convinced I like it and I can’t figure out how to fix it.”

“Are you sure it needs fixing?”

“Yes,” Katsuki replied without hesitation. “But enough about my projects, have a seat, let's talk about your fundraiser.”

As JJ sat down, Yuuri Katsuki pulled out a tablet and a pair of glasses.

Instagram hadn’t told him that Katsuki wore glasses.

Instagram had clearly been robbed of some quality content.

“What are you envisioning with this project?” Katsuki asked.

“Well, we’ve been envisioning a sort of charity show,” JJ said. “There will be food, socialization, and some sort of silent auction featuring donations from local businesses.”

Katsuki smiled. “I’m sure we could find a few dresses to donate to your auction. Victor definitely has a few extra designs from a couple seasons ago that you could sell.”

“That would be great,” JJ said. “And we’d really appreciate it. But we were looking to provide some sort of entertainment for the night, and your names came up in our brainstorming sessions quite a bit. If you’d be willing, we’d love to have you do some sort of design show.”

For a minute, Yuuri Katsuki just stared.

“A show?”

JJ nodded. “Between the two of you, you have an unholy number of Instagram followers, you’re practically local celebrities. People would love to see you interact, see more of your work.”

Katsuki started to say something but reconsidered.

“You know,” he eventually said. “This is definitely a Victor Nikiforov question, give me a minute.”

The designer picked up his phone, sent a quick text, and turned back to JJ.

“Not that I’m necessarily opposed to it,” he said. “I’m just not really good with people. Victor’s the one you’d want for this, trust me.”

JJ didn’t know quite how to reply to that.

Luckily, Victor Nikiforov walked in before the silence got too awkward.

“Hello, hello,” He said cheerily. “Victor Nikiforov. And you are?”

Katsuki sighed. “This is Mr. Leroy with the Ally Foundation,” he said. “He’s here about a fundraiser.”

“Right,” Nikiforov said. “I think I remember you mentioning that.”

Katsuki nodded. “Anyways, they’re putting on a charity event in a few months and thought a fashion show of some sort would be good entertainment.”

“Oh fashion shows are wonderful entertainment,” Nikiforov said. “And if it's for the Ally Foundation, we can’t exactly say no.”

Katsuki nodded, starting to take some notes. “So I’ll pull together some auction pieces and Victor can do a show for you. I’ll have Phichit draft up some updates for the website, a few Instagram posts could also go a long way.”

Nikiforov shot JJ a confused look.

JJ emphatically shook his head.

Nikiforov sighed. “Yuuri, love, I don’t think that’s really what the foundation had in mind.”

“Not exactly, no.” JJ chimed in.

Katsuki looked confused.

“Well, the original idea was to have both of you in the show,” JJ clarified. “Considering you own the shop together and all.”

“Oh,” Katsuki replied, clearly thinking it over. “I suppose we could figure something out, if that’s what you wanted.”

“We’ll definitely figure something out,” Nikiforov confirmed. “I’ll make an Instagram post this afternoon, feel free to post any official announcements on your pages. I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.”

“Thank you,” JJ said, standing to shake Nikiforov’s hand. “The foundation will be happy to have you.”

And just like that, they had a deal. Sure, Nikiforov had called him Mr. Leary on his way out. JJ hadn’t even cared. They had a deal, the foundation had their charity show, and all was well in the world.

* * *

Technically, Stammi Vicino Dress Sellers closed at five.

Christophe Giacometti _hated_ technicalities.

He burst through the front door at approximately four fifty-nine, champagne bottle in hand, and certainly not planning on leaving any time soon.

“Why is it whenever something good happens to you, I always find out via your Instagram?” he shouted into the store. “God, it’s like you love the internet more than you love _me_.”

“The internet doesn’t walk into the lobby after hours expecting to get wasted,” Yurio snapped.

“The internet would if it could, darling,” Chris replied as he made his way towards the back studio.

Yuuri was already there, working on one of his wedding dresses. He had a pencil tucked behind his ear, pins held in his teeth, glasses sitting on top of his head. Between the abandoned suit jacked and the pushed-up sleeves, Chris knew he had a golden opportunity.

He didn’t even need a filter.

 _I’ve been trying to convince @katsuki-y to get his arms tattooed,_ he wrote. _Any suggestions?_

He slid his phone back into his pocket before the Instagram notifications started rolling in.

Would Yuuri strangle him?

Maybe.

The new followers would be worth it.

* * *

 

 ** _@v-nikiforov:_ ** _Proud to announce that @katsuki-y and I will be collaborating with @ally-detroit for their upcoming charity runway and auction, hope to see you all there! [IMG: a calendar date circled in bright pink ink, the words ‘Ally Foundation!!!’ written in big loopy letters]_

 

 **_@fuzzycatsandgoofyhats:_ ** _Does this mean they’re putting dresses up for auction?_

 

 **_@writing-to-music:_ ** _#ykweddingcollection2k18?_

 

 **_@zb121:_ ** _If we’re getting the wedding collection can we also get some of V’s theatre collabs?_

 

 **_@ravenclaw37:_ ** _@zb121 omg yes the Carmen costumes last season were amazing._

 

 **_@nikkinerdblog:_ ** _Do you think @yuri_plisetsky will show?_

 

 **_@rest-in-bees:_ ** _Hey, anyone have ticket info for this?_

 

 **_@eclair:_ ** _@rest-in-bees it’s on Ally Foundation's website- they’re not on sale yet?_

 

 **_@wait-whereami:_ ** _Do you think V will wear that one suit from last year’s street sale?_

 

 **_@d2diamond:_ ** _@wait-whereami is it bad that I really want to see them in their own work?_

 

 **_@isisnocturne1369:_ ** _@d2diamond like dresses?_

 

 **_@thebookewyrme:_ ** _@d2diamond omg can you imagine_

 

 **_@shemakesmeforget:_ ** _That one dress from the 2014 prom collection tho?_

 

 **_@thtrelady:_ ** _Plot twist- V wears one of the dresses from Cinderella and becomes the Disney Princess we all know he is._

 

 **_@ms-cocoa:_ ** _@thtrelady I thought the theatre kept those costumes?_

 

 **_@christophe-gc:_ ** _@v-nikiforov have you seen this?_

 

* * *

“Chris, I’m sitting right across from you, you don’t have to-” Victor trailed off, staring at his screen.

“Exactly.”

“What?” Yuuri asked, Phichit already scrolling through Instagram to find the answer.

“Oh my God,” he eventually said. “They want you to do drag.”

“So _harsh_ , Petit,” Chris replied. “They want you wearing dresses. Drag is a different beast entirely.”

“Our dresses?”

“No, Yuuri, dresses from David’s Bridal,” Chris said.

“I’d be down,” Victor said, still skimming through the Instagram comments. “I mean, it could be fun.”

“I might have a few older designs in the studio apartment, something nice and a-lined, maybe empire waisted…”

“Right, and V’s going in a trash bag,” Chris said. “A big black one, not even the transparent kind.”

“You know, Yuuri,” Phichit said gently. “I’m sure you could find something more... suited to your style if you really looked for it.”

“Let me put it a little more simply,” Victor clarified. “I’m not letting you out of this store in an empire waist. You’ll have to bury me under the parking lot.”

“Kinky,” Chris muttered.

Phichit punched him in the arm.

“Hooking up in my Cadillac would be kinky,” Victor corrected. “Burying a body underneath it would definitely not be.”

“Maybe I’m a necrophiliac?”

“Not with _my_ body, you’re not.”

Chris sighed dramatically. “Even dead, you ruin all my fun.”

“Not to cut off this extremely fascinating conversation,” Phichit said, “but I might have a bit of a plan.”

“That’s what Napoleon said, darling.”

“What if we were to make things a little more interesting,” the Thai man continued, ignoring Chris’s comment. “Let’s put Yuuri in something of V’s and put Victor in a Katsuki.”

For a minute, the room was quiet. Victor pressed a finger to his lips, curiosity sparking in his eyes. Yuuri looked a little confused. Chris, on the other hand, looked thrilled.

“I was right, Petit. You’re a prettier, much more successful version of Napoleon.”

“Wait, like one of the prom designs?” Yuuri asked. “Or a theatre piece?”

“Let's be real,” Chris said with a smirk. “Anything he designs for you is hardly going to be appropriate for a high school prom.”

“Come now, Christophe,” Victor chided. “I can be reasonable on occasion. And I wouldn't be opposed to designing something for the lovely Yuuri Katsuki, especially if it means I get the chance to wear one of his ball gowns.”

“The internet would love it, just saying,” Phichit said.

“ _I’d_ certainly love it,” Chris continued.

“Yuuri?”

All eyes immediately shifted to the wedding designer as he thought.

“I’ll do it,” he eventually said. “But I’m not putting him in a wedding dress.”

Victor laughed. “Fair enough. But I still plan on getting married in one of your designs, and I won’t be swayed.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes but didn’t get the chance to reply.

“V, darling, don’t you think he’ll have enough to do? You can’t seriously expect him to design you a dress on top of everything else.”

“ _Chris,_ ” Victor snapped.

“What? I mean he’s definitely going to be in the wedding, and not exactly as the best man either.”

Yuuri just laughed. “You know, that’s probably fair. I didn’t see him through his wild college days like some people in the room.”

“I didn’t have wild college days, I was a refined and well-mannered design student, thank you much.”

Chris scoffed. “Sure. And I slept with Michelangelo.”

“On a totally unrelated note,” Yuuri interrupted. “Do you guys know any good coffee shops? We’re going to need a new one.”

* * *

The next morning, Yuuri and Makkachin made their way to Phichit’s favorite coffee spot- a small modern shop called _Boom Roasted_. Yuuri had been hesitant, but the prices weren’t bad and Phichit had insisted their bakery was to die for.

Yuuri ordered his coffee along with a muffin and proceeded to stare at the menu board for at least three minutes.

“I need something sweet,” he eventually told the barista. “More sugar than coffee, probably, bonus points for chocolate.”

The barista- Cait according to her nametag- responded by naming a drink and punching something into her register.

“Whipped cream on that?”

With Victor, the answer was always an emphatic yes.

Cait The Barista made the drinks in a matter of minutes, handing Yuuri a drink holder and a bag, no strangely flirtatious remarks necessary.

Yuuri made a mental note to thank Phichit later.

The drive to the shop was relatively painless, and before he knew it, Yuuri was walking into the back studio with Makkachin at his heels. Victor’s car hadn’t been in the parking lot, so Yuuri went straight to his office. There was a post-it stuck to his door, loopy letters somewhere between elegant cursive and illegible squiggles.

_Went to meet w/ Lilia, be back around noon. Text me your lunch suggestions?_

_-V_

He’d have to stick Victor’s coffee in the microwave when he got back. The whipped cream would probably be melted by that point anyway.

Yuuri slid into his desk chair as his laptop powered up, Makkachin curling up by his feet. According to his phone, he had forty-three unread emails in his primary inbox, though is social tab had been flooded with Instagram notifications overnight. He’d have to ask Phichit to give him a summary later.

He started to read through an email from a local wedding planner but didn’t quite get the chance. A bell pinged in the lobby, Makkachin perking up instantly. Yuuri sighed and abandoned his desk, slowly making his way to the front of the store.

He didn’t recognize the woman there, but she looked intimidating. Her bag was definitely Fendi and Yuuri was pretty sure he recognized her coat from the Armani’s online catalog.

“Hiding in the back isn’t good practice for a receptionist, love,” the woman said. “It makes management look careless.”

“Oh, our receptionist isn’t in yet,” Yuuri clarified. “He’s finishing up his degree and has a few morning classes. Can I do anything for you?”

The woman didn’t look impressed. Her eyes combed him over at least three times, red lips pursed in obvious taste.

“Ah,” she eventually said. “You must be Katsuki, I suppose. Vivian Forrest, we spoke briefly the other day, correct?”

Yuuri nodded, reaching out his hand.

Vivian Forrest, apparently, did not shake hands.

“Anyways,” she drawled. “I’m here for Victor if you’d be a dear and tell him I’m here.”

“He’s actually out for a meeting at the moment,” Yuuri said as he awkwardly slid his hand into his pocket. “Did you have an appointment?”

“No, I’ve just been struggling to get in touch with him, I figured I’d save us both the trouble and stop in.”

“Ah, I see,” Yuuri said. “Well, he’ll be back in a couple hours, if you want to come back around noon?”

“It’s alright, I can wait.”

“Oh… um… alright. Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

“Coffee would be great, actually, thanks love.”

And just like that, Yuuri was handing over Victor’s coffee to a lingerie designer worth more than most of Detroit.

“This is sickeningly sweet,” she said. “I love it.”

Yuuri laughed nervously. “I’m glad. It would be Victor’s if he weren’t out with Madame Baranovskaya.”

The name seemed to peak her interest. “Baranovskaya?”

“Lilia Baranovskaya,” Yuuri clarified, leaning on the edge of the counter. “She directs a lot of the local theatre projects and usually hires Victor to do the costumes.”

Vivian Forrest sighed dramatically. “Theatre,” she said. “ _Theatre_ . He interned in _Paris_ , for God’s sake. He’s met _Armani_. And now he’s sitting here designing for half rate primadonna’s and high school proms.”

Yuuri nodded and tried to avoid eye contact, taking a sip of coffee.

“I mean, no offense, love,” she continued. “I’m sure you’re a lovely person. By all means, you have wonderful taste in coffee. My PA’s going on maternity leave in a few months, actually, you’d probably make a wonderful applicant. But God, this store is just so… quaint, you know? And Victor Nikiforov is so much more than quaint.”

Yuuri laughed a little. “He’s definitely a presence.”

“He’s brilliant, that’s what he is. He’s a brilliant, beautiful force to be reckoned with, and he can do so much _more_.”

For a minute, they drank their coffee in silence, Vivian’s words echoing in Yuuri’s head.

He wanted to dismiss them, he really did. She was practically a stranger, she didn’t know Victor well enough, she had the wrong information, she was simply wrong. But every time Yuuri rolled the information over in his head, he came to the same conclusion.

She certainly had a point.

* * *

Lilia Baranovskaya’s most recent endeavor was opera, specifically Madama Butterfly, and she was certainly passionate about it. She had a binder full of costume ideas, notes on characters, pages of highlighted script tucked between the pages.

Victor was listening carefully when his phone rang from somewhere deep in his bag.

Lilia’s glare probably could have given a weaker man frostbite.

Victor dug his phone out from underneath his sketchbooks and took a brief double take at the name on the screen.

“I should take this,” he said apologetically as he stood up. Lilia didn’t look happy about it but didn’t protest when he left the room.

“I’m in a meeting with Lilia,” he said as soon as he answered. “If she fires me for this, I’m not letting you drink in my store for at least a week.”

“I know, I know,” Chris said. “And I’m sorry. I thought you’d want to know. Remember the other day when you asked me to look out for that one girl from design school?”

Victor winced. “I definitely remember.”

“Well, she’s in your store.”

Victor swore he felt his stomach drop three feet.

“She’s just in the lobby,” Chris continued. “Yuuri’s talking to her, it all looks pretty civil. I can go intervene if you want.”

It took Victor approximately two seconds to determine that an intervention from Chris would be a terrible idea.

“No, just leave her be. I’ll handle it.”

“You sure, V? I have some extra roses, I’ll go serenade her.”

Victor just laughed. “Knowing you, you’d end up serenading Yuuri and we can’t have that, can we?”

“Fair point,” Chris replied. “Best of luck with Lilia, though.”

“Thanks,” Victor said. “I’ll need it.”

“If she murders you, I get your car, right?”

Victor hung up.

“I’m so sorry,” he said as he walked back into the room. “That was the florist who works next to my shop. We’ve had a bit of an unexpected guest, I think I’ll have to get going. Can we reschedule the rest of this meeting? My schedule’s still relatively open next week.”

Lilia sighed. “Just take the binder, Victor. I trust you. The calendar’s in the front sleeve, you can text me some potential costuming dates when you get the time.”

Victor nodded, tucking the binder into his bag. “Thank you, really. I’ll be in touch.”

“I know,” Lilia said with a smile as Victor rushed out the door.

Technically, Victor thought, if he didn’t look at his speedometer, it didn’t really count as speeding. Technically, if he didn’t get pulled over, it didn’t really count either. Technically, as long as he made it to the store in one piece it would be fine.

He made it to Stammi’s in record time, pink Cadillac practically skidding to a stop in front of the store. He could see them through the store windows- Yuuri leaning casually on the edge of the counter and Viv sitting glamorously in one of the lobby chairs.

Her third plastic surgery had not served her well.

Summoning every last passive-aggressive cell in his body, he swung the store doors open with a goddamn smile painted on his face.

“ _Viv_ ,” he said. “Darling, usually when someone doesn’t answer your calls, it isn’t an invitation.”

“It’s a public business, Vitya, I wasn’t aware I needed one.”

“Well, I’d have preferred you bring your own coffee instead of drinking mine, it would've been at least slightly considerate.”

“It’s alright, I offered it,” Yuuri said nervously.

“And besides, Vitya,” Viv said. “It’s sickeningly sweet, consider yourself one step farther from diabetes.”

“If my blood sugar kills me before you do, I’ll embrace it with open arms,” he snapped. “Now get up, this conversation will go much better if we have it in my office.”

“What gives, darling? Don’t trust the business partner?”

Victor laughed.

Yuuri just looked uncomfortable.

“Oh I trust my business partner explicitly,” Victor clarified. “I just don’t trust you anywhere near him.”

“God, Vitya,” Viv said as she stood up, “bitch much?”

“I missed my morning coffee,” he snapped before disappearing into the hallway, Viv rushing to follow him.

* * *

Yuri only heard half of the phone conversation through the office door.

“I don’t know, Peach,”  Katsudon was saying. “He definitely wasn’t happy about it.”

A pause.

A sigh. “I mean, sure, but you’re the one who found her profit margins for me.”

A longer pause.

“But why wouldn’t he? He’s young, he’s gorgeous, he’s apparently met Armani or something-”

Another pause.

“That’s not the point.”

A very short pause.

“I’m just being realistic.”

A frustrated sigh.

“Look, just keep an eye out for me, ok? Better safe than sorry.”

There was another moment of silence followed by the sound of Katsudon collapsing into his desk chair. Yuri decided it would be his best opportunity to knock.

“Your fitting’s here,” he said curtly. “And there are some girls here to talk prom but Victor’s in a meeting, so…”

“I’ll take care of it,” Katsudon replied. “Could I convince you to order lunch when you get the chance?”

Yuri laughed. “If it means I don’t have to talk to the prom queens, absolutely.”

* * *

 

When Yuuri got back to the apartment that night, Victor was sitting on the couch with Makkachin at his feet. Classical music was playing softly as always, budget spreadsheets spread haphazardly across the coffee table, a glass of wine sitting near the corner.

“Do you remember how much I paid for fabric when Lilia did The King and I?” Victor had asked. “For some reason, I feel like she gave me a really good price and yet for the life of me I can’t remember how much it was.”

Yuuri just laughed. “That was three years ago, V. I can’t even remember our numbers from last month.”

Technically, that was a lie. He’d looked up their numbers when Phichit had found Vivian Forrest’s. But he hadn’t remembered on his own, so it was at least partially true?

“I suppose,” Victor replied. “And you have a strong wedding collection coming up anyways, so if I tank our budget on Madama Butterfly at least we can steal your profits and run off to Russia.”

Yuuri chuckled a little as he took a seat on the couch. “We’ve been over this,” he said. “If the temperature gets lower than my age, I’m not going. Now, which one of these spreadsheets is from 2013?”

“Hawaii it is then,” Victor said as he reached for the budget reports. “And we’re not bringing Yurio.”

“God,” Yuuri said quietly. “I could kill for a vacation.”

“No budget reports in Hawaii,” Victor confirmed.

“No prom fittings either.”

“They have beaches, too,” Victor mused, leaning on Yuuri’s shoulder. “It’s been ages since I’ve been on a beach.”

“Same,” Yuuri said. “They have beaches in Japan but it’s been years.”

Victor thought for a minute, but then his eyes lit up. “Destination wedding?”

Yuuri’s heart skipped about three beats before he could smoothly laugh it off. “How much wine have you had tonight?”

Victor sighed dramatically. “Not enough. But I’m pretty sure I have a fitting tomorrow so more probably isn’t a good idea.”

“Probably not,” Yuuri said with a smile. “You should probably go to sleep, actually. It’s late.”

“Probably,” Victor confirmed half-heartedly as he stood. “Come with me?”

He might have agreed if he’d been feeling bolder. Maybe if Victor were sober. Maybe if Yuuri wasn’t. He might have agreed had it been a little later, had it been a weekend, had he believed they had a future.

But Yuuri was still Yuuri, and he was somehow still sober. And like it or not, Victor would probably be running off to Europe anyway. Come a few months from now, he’d be designing lingerie and planning his luxurious Hawaiian vacations with Vivian Forrest.

And so, Yuuri said no.

He used the budget reports as an excuse, after all, Madama Butterfly.

It was at least partially true.

* * *

The next few days were fairly routine. Yuuri woke up on time every morning, picked out a suit, and made his way towards coffee as soon as he could.

It had taken Cait The Barista two days to ask if he was actually Yuuri Katsuki and four days to figure out the perfect way to make Victor’s coffee.

She had yet to ask for any phone numbers.

Yuuri had a good feeling about Cait The Barista.

He lost that good feeling the minute he walked into Stammi’s. He could hear Yurio’s voice all the way from the back of the store, and it didn’t sound amused.

“I don’t care if you want to buy the whole damn store,” he was saying. “You need to fucking leave.”

Yuuri sighed and made his way into the lobby, starting to form an apology as he walked.

“Apologies,” he said as he opened the lobby door. “He’s usually not-”

“I don’t care how he usually is,” Vivian Forrest snapped. “I came here to meet with a friend, not to be berated by a hormonal teenager.”

“Again, I’m so sorry,” Yuuri said, trying to sound as sincere as humanly possible. “Victor’s actually meeting with someone about a custom quinceañera gown, is there something I can help you with in the meantime?”

The lingerie designer rolled her eyes. “You can fire your receptionist, for starters. You’d do a better job anyway.”

Yurio scoffed. “Sure. Real smart. He’ll just casually quit design, take my job, and the store can tank without his wedding collection. You’d love that, wouldn’t you.”

“ _Yurio_.”

“Look, loves,” Vivian said. “I’ve known Victor Nikiforov for a very long time. He’s a magpie. He likes shiny things, pretty things, _expensive_ things. And this?”

She took a minute to gesture broadly to the store, to Yuuri, to Yurio.

“This isn’t shiny, boys. Not in the least.”

Yuuri had no response.

Yurio, however, hardly missed a beat. “Well, I could dump thirteen tubes of glitter on you and you’d still be another cheap Carine Gilson imitation. Keep your money and I’ll see you in hell, bitch.”

And with that, the receptionist practically sashayed out of the lobby.

“Isn’t he just charming,” Vivian Forrest muttered.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuuri said for what must have been the hundredth time. “He’s really not a morning person.”

“It’s ten thirty, love, it isn’t morning anymore.”

Yuuri chuckled a little. “It’s morning for some of us, trust me.”

“Right, you don’t work early, do you?” she said almost too sweetly. “I envy you, sleep is a luxury to most of us.”

“Well, I usually work later anyway, and I use the nights to do our budgets and such. Victor’s usually asleep far earlier than I am, so he’s better at mornings.”

Vivian’s eyes narrowed. “You seem awfully confident in your knowledge of your boss’s sleep schedule.”

“Oh, um, we actually live together,” Yuuri said. “A couple years after we opened the shop, we decided to convert my apartment into extra studio space.”

Vivian Forrest thought for a moment before a look of clarity spread across her face.

“Oh my _God_ ,” she said, almost in awe. “You’re sleeping with him. That’s why he’s staying.”

“No no no,” Yuuri quickly corrected, heat rising to his face. “It’s not like that.”

Vivian just laughed. “You don’t have to hide with me, love. I can’t blame you, he’s certainly a beautiful specimen and you’re not too bad yourself. I can see why he keeps you around.”

“I-”

He was cut off by the sound of the lobby doors opening.

A young teenage girl walked through with her parents and someone who could have been a best friend or a sister, maybe a cousin.

And then there was Victor.

Victor did not look happy.

“Viv,” he said coldly the minute his quinceañera appointment was out of the store. “I thought I made myself clear last time we talked.”

“I know, darling,” Vivian replied sweetly. “But you know me, I’ve never been the type to give up easily. And honestly, love, I’m glad I came back. I mean, I understand where you’re coming from, but you could still do so much better.”

“You said that last time,” Victor said. “My answer is exactly the same.”

Vivian sighed dramatically. “Oh, Vitya, love, _really?_ I mean, I understand that he’s pretty, he’s certainly not unattractive by any means. And if you want another pretty coworker to sleep with, Paris is full of beautiful people, you’d be amazed. God, I got this new intern recently…”

“Viv,” Victor interrupted, eyes practically frozen over. “I work at this store because I _love_ it. I love Stammi’s, I love the theatre, I love Detroit. If I _wanted_ Paris, I’d be there. Without you. And as for Yuuri- Yuuri is by far the greatest designer I’ve ever worked with. He’s incredibly talented, incredibly driven, and just all around remarkable to work with. I’m not here because he’s pretty, I’m here because he’s brilliant and at this point, I doubt I’d survive without him. I have no interest in running off to Paris with you. I had no interest last week, I’ll have no interest tomorrow. I highly suggest you cut your losses and fly home.”

For a minute, there was silence as Victor stared the lingerie designer down from across the lobby.

“You’ll regret this,” Vivian Forrest said coldly. “Don’t call me when Fashion Week hits and you want another chance.”

“Somehow I doubt I’d consider it,” Victor snapped without missing a beat.

She scoffed but walked out the front door all the same.

“Victor?” Yuuri asked hesitantly.

“Hmm?” Victor hummed as he walked back toward the hall.

“Are you sure?”

Victor stopped walking.

“Sure? Yuuri, of course I’m sure. This store is my life, you know that.”

“I know, I know,” Yuuri said. “Just… Paris has a lot of opportunities. And Vivian Forrest has a lot of money, a lot more than we do.”

“If I wanted more money, I’d take more theatre contracts,” Victor said curtly. “It’s not about the money. Never has been, never will be. This is home, and I have no intention of leaving anytime soon.”

“Not even for Vivian Forrest?”

“Somehow I feel like you’re a little out of the loop. Viv and I aren’t friends, Yuuri. We weren’t even friends in design school. We collaborated on a few projects. They were subpar at best. Trust me, her offer has very little to do with actual design skill and is more about her attempting to get into my pants.”

“Well, she’s pretty and rich, V,” Yuuri said defensively. “You could certainly do worse.”

Victor looked like he’d just swallowed a ping pong ball.

“Are you serious? Oh my God, you’re actually serious,” he said, frustration starting to seep into his voice. “Yuuri, I’m not bi. At all. I happen to be very very gay. I’m not sure how you missed that detail-”

“Well, it’s not like we ever had a dramatic coming out conversation.”

Victor gave a frustrated sigh, pushing his hand back through his hair. “Well, let me lay it out for you,” he said sharply. “I have no desire to sleep with Vivian Forrest. I have no desire to sleep with women in general. Honestly, there aren’t many men I want to sleep with either. In fact, I can really think of one person I’d want to sleep with at the moment and he’s certainly not Vivian Forrest. No, he’s looking at me like I’m about to run off to Paris and design lingerie. _Lingerie_ , Yuuri. I can’t design lingerie.”

“Please, I saw your prom designs from 2014, you could definitely design lingerie if you wanted to.”

“I don’t,” Victor snapped. “Again, I’d thought that would be relatively obvious considering I’m working for a dress shop and not Victoria’s Secret.”

For a minute, the lobby was quiet as the words caught up with them.

“I think I left something at the studio,” Yuuri said softly, not quite able to meet Victor’s eyes. “I’ll be back.”

He didn't come back.

* * *

Cait The Barista had worked at _Boom Roasted_ for one year and seven months.

She’d never seen anything like the pink Cadillac that pulled into the parking lot that morning.

She’d never seen anything like Victor Nikiforov either, for that matter, but she certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully as he walked up to the counter. “I need one of the really sweet drinks with the espresso, the one with the whipped cream on top. And I need… Just a normal coffee. Two creams.”

“One sugar,” Cait completed with a smile. “It’s for Yuuri, right? He usually orders two cream, one sugar.”

“Oh,” the designer said, nodding to himself. “Thank you. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“Is he sick?” Cait asked as she labeled the coffee cups. “Usually he’s in pretty regularly.”

“Not exactly,” Victor said. “He’s just… I don’t think he’s getting the coffee this morning. So I figured I’d take care of it. Surprise him?”

Cait nodded. “Makes sense,” she said.

A few minutes later, she was handing over the drink tray.

“You know,” she said. “I usually give Yuuri a treat for his dog, do you want one to take to him?”

“His dog?” Victor asked, looking confused. “Oh wait, Makka. You think… Right. Yes.”

Cait raised her eyebrows.

Victor sighed. “Makkachin is technically my dog, it’s a bit of a long story, you just confused me for a minute.”

“Yuuri dog-sits for you?”

“No,” the designer said. “Well, kind of. Not really. I guess… Well… Yuuri usually lives with me.”

Oh.

_Oh._

“He didn’t last night, did he?”

Victor shook his head. “It’s a long story, dear, it really is. And I’ve probably said far too much anyway. And I should really get going. But thank you for everything, you’ve been incredibly helpful. I’d tip you if I carried cash, maybe tomorrow...”

He trailed off as he walked out of the shop, coffee tray in hand.

“Mr. Nikiforov,” Cait called just before left. “Good luck.”

Victor chuckled a little, flashed a slightly strained heart-shaped smile, and walked out the door.

* * *

Yuuri had forgotten how much he hated the studio apartment. It was too big, too empty, too full of boxes and fabric and old mannequins. Sure, it had a small bedroom, a bathroom, a refrigerator. But it was still a workspace, not a home. And besides, the bed in Victor’s guest room was much more comfortable.

Victor’s apartment, in general, was much more comfortable.

Yuuri sighed and finished fixing his hair.

Of course, it was a fairly quick fixing considering his hair gel was at Victor’s.

His contacts were also at Victor’s.

Everything was at Victor’s.

Makkachin was at Victor’s.

Victor was at Victor’s.

And Yuuri was in the studio apartment, wondering if he’d rather flee to Mexico instead of going back into Stammi’s.

He didn’t have a passport.

And gas was too expensive anyway.

Yuuri picked out a suit and got dressed.

It was one of his older suits, it didn’t quite fit right in the shoulders, the pants were slightly too big. He’d probably bought it in college at some point, and Victor had deemed it unworthy to live in his apartment.

Victor had a point.

Victor always had a point.

Yuuri looked through the refrigerator for some sort of breakfast.

He found no breakfast.

He’d have to get some with coffee.

Yuuri took one last deep breath, slid his shoes on, and opened his apartment door.

He swore his heart skipped at least seven beats.

He almost slammed the door.

He didn’t.

“G’morning,” Victor said as he stood up, offering Yuuri the coffee tray. “Is there still a microwave here? It might be a little cold.”

Yuuri took a small sip, the coffee not hot enough to burn but not necessarily cold either. Victor’d gotten the order right somehow, probably with help from Cait The Barista. Yuuri made a mental note to thank her later.

“Can we talk?” Victor asked.

Yuuri nodded. “Come in. There’s not a couch here anymore, but we can sit on the bed?”

Victor nodded, setting the empty coffee tray on the kitchen counter. They quietly navigated through the boxes and mannequins and ended up in the small apartment bedroom on the edge of Yuuri’s old twin bed.

Victor took a deep breath. “About yesterday,” he said. “I was harsh, I know. And I’m sorry. But really, you have to know. I could never leave Stammi’s. It’s too much of me, of you, too much of _us_. I’m exactly where I want to be, and I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

“I know,” Yuuri said softly. “And I’m sorry for making assumptions. Listening to Vivian talk about you and your past… she just made so much _sense_ sometimes.”

“Well, she was wrong,” Victor said gently. “She was wrong about me, about the store. And she was definitely wrong about you. You’re absolutely irreplaceable.”

“Victor, I-”

“Not yet,” he said. “I know I said things last night that I shouldn't have said out loud. I was tired, I was frustrated, and I’m so sorry. I should have-”

“Victor,” Yuuri interjected. “Did you mean it?”

For a minute, the words hung limply in the air, Victor’s eyes wide.

“Well, of course I meant it,” he said. “And I know I should’ve told you differently, but-”

“Victor,” Yuuri said yet again. “Stop talking.”

He almost protested, almost opened his mouth to say something else. But before he had the chance, Yuuri’s hand was gripping his tie, pulling him down into the gentlest, softest kiss Victor had ever experienced.

He reached behind Yuuri’s back, pulling him closer, breathing in as much of the moment as possible.

And then his phone went off.

 _Lilia Baranovskaya,_ the screen read.

Yuuri just laughed. “You forgot an appointment, didn’t you?”

“I’m so sorry, I-”

“Victor,” Yuuri interrupted, this time with a smile. “You’re not the only one who has to apologize. And I’m not going to now, you have a meeting to get to. But tonight. Let me take you out to dinner. Let me make it up to you.”

For a second, Victor just stared as he processed everything Yuuri had just said.

Dinner.

 _Dinner_.

As in a date.

“Of course.”

* * *

The following weeks seemed to fly by between Madama Butterfly, the upcoming wedding season, and the frequently recurring dinner dates after closing the store every night. Thankfully, Cait The Barista was armed with ample espresso and whipped cream to solve most of their problems.

“I’m sending her an invite to the Ally fundraiser,” Victor had said.

And so, Cait The Barista received two tickets to a sold-out show folded between her tip money one day.

Her sister had almost died.

Two weeks later, they were front and center at the Ally Foundation’s charity runway show ready to flood their Instagrams.

They took pictures of the stage, of the runway, of the crowds, the photographers, of _everything._

And then the Ally Foundation president had walked out wearing a purple tailored suit.

“Good evening!” he said, voice booming over the crowds. “My name is Jean-Jaques Leroy, and I’m here to welcome you on behalf of the Ally Foundation and Stammi Vicino Dress Sellers. Before we start, I’d like to thank a few people, namely the board at the Foundation and Otabek Altin for helping last minute with our sound system. We’d also like to thank Urban Sound Design and Loretta’s Catering for helping us run this event so smoothly. And last but certainly not least, we have to thank Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki for putting on this show and auction for us. We couldn't have come nearly this far without their support. And so now, without any further ado, Yuri Plisetsky!”

Some of the audience cheered.

Some of them laughed.

The Foundation president walked off the stage, and a small teenager dressed in leather pants and tiger print walked down the center of the runway.

“I know, I know,” he said. “I’m the _wrong Yuuri_ or whatever. But chill for a hot sec. My name is Yuri Plisetsky, I work at Stammi’s. I think I’m like distantly related to Victor or something but I have no idea. Anyways. I work there. It’s a job. And they asked me to introduce the first part of this show tonight.”

A few people cheered.

Yuri just laughed.

“Calm down, you haven’t seen anything yet. But anyways, a few months ago when they started planning this show, they ended up looking through Instagram for some ideas. And boy, did you have ideas.”

Cait definitely remembered scrolling through those comments, there were more than a few questionable requests.

“Well yeah, so long story short, Victor’s friend Chris sees this comment on Victor’s post and points it out. And thus _this_ concept was born.”

He rolled his eyes, a few audience members laughing.

“But yeah. That happened. They told me I should write notecards for this, I didn’t. What can I say, I’m a moron. Ladies, Gentlemen, and Etceteras, brace yourselves for the first appearance of the night. Wearing a Yuuri Katsuki original design, Victor Nikiforov!”

The audience roared.

And then there was Victor.

Victor, with his shiny silver hair and heart-shaped smile, wearing a full ball gown as he twirled down the runway.

“Oh God,” he said into his microphone. “I’ve never felt so much like a Disney Princess and I absolutely love it.”

The audience cheered, Victor just laughing.

“Well anyway, dears, let me tell you about this dress. First of all, it’s absolutely gorgeous. That’s it. That’s all I have to say. It’s beautiful, it’s perfect, do you see these colors?”

He twirled again, the skirt flying out around him in a flair of pinks and purples.

“Internet, let's start a petition,” he said. “YK Prom Collection 2018.”

The audience roared.

Victor waited for the noise to calm, laughing slightly to himself.

“Alright,” he eventually said. “Let’s bring the designer out here and hear what he has to say about his creation.”

Cait had thought the noise for Victor was loud.

The applause for Yuuri was almost deafening, especially when he came into view.

He was wearing a black, form-fitting dress, a slit riding up his thigh. Sparkling crystals lined the belt and reached up over his shoulder, catching the light at every angle. And the lipstick- somebody had given him red lipstick.

That somebody needed a raise.

“Well,” Yuuri Katsuki said as the noise died down. “When I designed your dress, I guess I just tried to come up with something that suited you and your personality, your elegance, your flair…”

There was a large chorus of ‘awwww’s from the audience.

“...somehow I get the feeling you had different intentions in mind.”

The audience lost it.

Somebody wolf-whistled in the front row.

“I mean, can you blame me?” Victor said with a smirk. “I mean, back me up, audience, who here appreciates this dress on Yuuri?”

According to Cait The Barista, the whole audience, along with everyone in a twenty-mile radius, appreciated the dress on Yuuri.

“What can I say, love?” Victor said sweetly. “I’m a people pleaser at heart.”

Yuuri just shook his head. “You’re so lucky you’re pretty.”

Victor, along with most of the audience, laughed. “You hear that folks?” he asked. “Yuuri Katsuki thinks I’m pretty.”

Yuuri chuckled softly. “What? Did you think I was dating you for the Cadillac?”

And that was it.

Technically, there was the rest of the show.

They showed off other dresses.

They told stories.

They auctioned things off for boatloads of money.

But they were trending on Twitter.

Sure, seventy percent of that was probably Cait’s sister.

But they were _trending on Twitter_.

They were trending on Twitter, they were together, and the Ally Foundation would have enough press to last years. They’d also have more than enough funding, thanks to a few _very_ generous auction donations, not to mention the check from Victor and Yuuri themselves.

The Ally Foundation of Detroit would be just fine, and so would Stammi Vicino Dress Sellers.


End file.
